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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654533">knowing things [will never be the same]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/4beit/pseuds/4beit'>4beit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Typical Violence, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, tw: mentions of sexual harrassment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 23:13:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,204</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/4beit/pseuds/4beit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“i think the lady saved me.” you whisper, remembering the fury, the scream, the strength that was not yours and the anger that nearly killed the man. </p>
<p>not that he didn’t deserve it. </p>
<p>“viola saved you?”  jamie’s surprise is plain in her voice, soft as she speaks in a murmur.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dani Clayton &amp; Viola Lloyd, Dani Clayton/Jamie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>228</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>knowing things [will never be the same]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>the night is much like any other up until the moment that it’s not. </p>
<p>you’re closing up shop, standing in the backroom and eyeing two hefty metal trash cans full of refuse and debris that needs to be moved into the alley for tomorrow’s pick up. it is the last task in the list associated with closing up shop on a tuesday night. the days' transactions have been added to the books, the floors have been swept and the lights – all but one – have been turned off. the day, while not particularly hard, was busy. nothing that wasn’t expected considering how quickly valentines day is approaching, but still. you take one look at jamie, leaning against the doorframe in her white shirt and green overalls, absentmindedly spinning the ring, </p>
<p>your ring, </p>
<p>her ring, </p>
<p>the ring that represents, in its own quiet way, everything you are to each other; and can see how tired she is. it’s all over the curl of her shoulders and way she tips her head against the wall, closing her eyes for half a second. </p>
<p>you decide then and there that </p>
<p>“i’ve got this.” you tell her, promise her “you go upstairs.” </p>
<p>upstairs, upstairs to the place you call home. a place that five, six years ago, when eddie’s death was still fresh in your mind and bly manor was still ahead, you would never have believed a place like this could be yours. or rather, a place like this with a woman like jamie. you watch as she opens her eyes, soft smiling flickering across her face “it’s two bins.” she says “i can help.” </p>
<p>“i know you can,” you tell her “i’m saying you don’t need too.” you say, crossing the space between you until jamie is bringing a hand to your waist “i can move them.” you promise between soft kisses “you can go relax.” </p>
<p>she kisses you once more, longer now and her hand comes to your jaw “you’re amazing.” she murmurs “you know that?” </p>
<p>you laugh against her lips “for moving the trash cans?” </p>
<p>you can practically feel jamie roll her eyes “yes,” she says “that and only that. it’s the only reason i love you.” </p>
<p>your heart swoops in your chest and you can’t help but smile. you smile every time jamie says those three words, no matter how often, no matter the place. sometimes, she likes to lean up onto her toes and murmur them into your ear while you’re out getting groceries. she makes it look like she’s just leaning past you to get some potatoes, when you both know there are a perfectly unreasonable amount of potatoes at home already </p>
<p>and, </p>
<p>she’s picking them up only as an excuse to tell you she loves you. </p>
<p>it’s ridiculous and one of your favourite things. </p>
<p>much like jamie’s smile, the way she’s smiling at you now and relenting with a “how do we feel about a bath tonight?” she asks the question plainly, knowing your ability to cope with reflective pools of water varies on a day by day basis. you feel her hand slide down your arm and you feel her fingers tangle with yours as you take a moment to think, </p>
<p>to feel. </p>
<p>viola, your lady of the lake, has good days and bad days. despite your best attempts, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to what sets her off. you can have weeks without catching a glimpse of her, and then, on a dime, a slew of sleepless nights spent on the couch; unable to trust yourself around jamie. </p>
<p>well, </p>
<p>unable to trust her around jamie. </p>
<p>today, tonight, </p>
<p>the lady seems quiet. you feel her, she’s never gone, but if a ghost can rest, you’d call this resting. not asleep, you’re not sure the lady ever sleeps – you know she’s watching, listening, observing. it’s a fact that you’ve long since reckoned with, not that you like it. but tonight, you think of slipping into the bath with jamie settling in front of you, her back pressing against your front. you think of kissing her neck gently, gently, not promising to go anywhere with it, just remembering that you can kiss her. that you get to share your life with her. </p>
<p>what little of it you have left. </p>
<p>“we don’t have to,” jamie says, squeezing your hand and speaking softly, pulling you away from your thoughts.</p>
<p>you do so much thinking, mostly about the lady and the future she’s going to steal from you,</p>
<p>from jamie. </p>
<p>not tonight. </p>
<p>“we can.” you say, exhaling “we can. she’s,” you search for the word “i don’t think it will upset her.” </p>
<p>it’s a gamble, the lady always is but - </p>
<p>but it’s worth it to see the smile spread across jamie’s face. </p>
<p>“be quick,” she says, stepping back, moving towards the green door that leads to the apartment above. </p>
<p>“i’ll be right up,” you promise, watching jamie disappear upstairs. </p>
<p>you take a moment, standing there in the half-light of the backroom, listening to her footsteps, to the twist of her key in the lock and the soft hitch of the door closing behind her. </p>
<p>you exhale. </p>
<p>you’re so in love.</p>
<p>you’re so in love it’s dizzying sometimes. sometimes like right now as you think of her, upstairs, in the space you share, moving around and getting ready with that same soft, only-for-you, smile. </p>
<p>you bring your attention back to the cans and decide to tackle the heavy one first. you roll it, partially tilted on its side, towards the edge of the door and then, with two hands and a developed strength, you lift it up and out. from here, in the frozen evening air of february, you eye the edge of the alley where your bin has to end up. it’s not a long walk, two dozen paces or so, but the metal of the cans are loud against the uneven paving of the alley, </p>
<p>so you pick it up once again. </p>
<p>you walk in an awkward waddle, down the alley until you set the bin down along the edge of the building. you take a moment, not quite breathing hard, but not quite not. you stand there for several seconds in the cool night air, looking up at the cloudless sky and soaking in the smattering of stars that somehow, on these cold, crisp nights, shine brighter. the evening is so calm, so very nearly perfect that when the shiver drops down your spine, </p>
<p>at first, you ignore it. </p>
<p>at first, you ignore it, but that doesn’t last more than a second before a wolf whistle pierces the air. it’s followed up by a voice that is far too close for comfort. a voice that says, </p>
<p>“well, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out in the cold?” </p>
<p>your stomach twists as you spin round. </p>
<p>the man is leering, to say the least. he’s crossing into the alley with a cigarette on his lips and one hand shoved deep into the pocket of his jacket. he looks unfamiliar, normal in every sense of the word except for the fact that he makes you want to run. he ignites some deep-seated fight or flight instinct that has you itching to move. </p>
<p>“i’m sure i can warm you up.” he says, and you know you should move, should run, should disappear back inside and leave the second bin for another time but, </p>
<p>but you can’t, </p>
<p>you don’t, </p>
<p>you’re stuck. it’s infuriating, terrifying. your mind knows what it wants to do, what it really should be doing considering the way the man is looking at you, approaching you. except the part were body does exactly what it’s told, what it’s been designed to do, </p>
<p>run, </p>
<p>isn’t happening. </p>
<p>you’re caught, stock still where you stand “i’m fine.” you say, but your voice wavers. another betrayal. where you needed confidence, you were left with the furthest thing from. </p>
<p>“you look cold.” the man says, stepping closer, into your space. </p>
<p>you can smell the smoke from his cigarette and the liquor on his breath. </p>
<p>oh god. </p>
<p>you see the shine in his eyes and it makes you sick. </p>
<p>“i’m not.” you promise “i’m fine. leave me alone.” </p>
<p>you hope your voice is firm, but you can’t be sure. can’t be sure even as your feet finally find their purpose. you take a step sideways, but it’s not enough, not as his hand is wrapping around your wrist. fear spikes and his grip is tight, </p>
<p>too tight. </p>
<p>you remember what jamie told you, years and years ago now, about twisting towards someone’s thumb, about that being the weakest part of their grip but - </p>
<p>“come here darlin’” the man says, yanking you towards him, yanking you so you’re pressed against him. </p>
<p>“no!” you shout, the cry piercing the night and you’re slamming your hand against his chest to no avail and he laughs. </p>
<p>he laughs and he’s got your arm in his grip, unbearably tight as he walks you backwards.</p>
<p>no. </p>
<p>fuck. </p>
<p>no. no. </p>
<p>you use your free hand and slap him. </p>
<p>hard. </p>
<p>as hard as you can. </p>
<p>so hard that it leaves your hang stinging for several long seconds after it connects with the soft flesh of his face. except where you were hoping for a break, for a chance to escape, </p>
<p>no. </p>
<p>the man brings his other hand to your throat in a flash of anger, his fingers curling around, squeezing, and - </p>
<p>you’re at bly. </p>
<p>you’re at bly and the lady of the lake has her hand around your throat. </p>
<p>and then,</p>
<p>then, </p>
<p>as his face gets closer to yours, </p>
<p>something happens. </p>
<p>something changes. </p>
<p>you change. </p>
<p>you’re not you anymore, but her. </p>
<p>you’re her and you’re you. </p>
<p>somehow, in that alleyway, viola erupts from you and a terrifying piercing shriek shatters the calm of the night. you feel her moving your body as if it were your own. you know her face is your face and somehow you know the man is seeing not eyes, nose and mouth,</p>
<p>but nothing. </p>
<p>featureless, black hair, </p>
<p>nothing. </p>
<p>viola, all her anger and hatred, all that had been pent up for how many centuries, </p>
<p>it erupts for a fraction of a second. your hand, viola’s hand, comes to the shocked mans’ throat. you see without seeing, without any control over what you do next. it is viola’s fury that slowly strangles the now struggling man. </p>
<p>she could kill him. </p>
<p>you could kill him. </p>
<p>she can’t, not here, not in the alley. </p>
<p>your brain tells your hand to let go but, </p>
<p>no. </p>
<p>god. </p>
<p>the man is going red in the face and redder still. </p>
<p>he’s going to die and you’re going to kill him. you know it now. you know viola can feel the mans pulse, thick and sluggish beneath her, your, fingers. worse, so much worse, is how you know she enjoys this. she enjoys having this mans life in her hands. if your body was yours, you think you’d be sick but, as the man splutters, </p>
<p>you slam your eyes shut, unable to watch any more. </p>
<p>the moment you close your eyes, the world fades away. you’re disconnected from your body. </p>
<p>you’re free, </p>
<p>floating, caught on rippling anger and hated and rage. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>don’t do this</i> you think, not sure if your ghost can hear you <i>please.</i> </p>
<p>you can’t kill this man. </p>
<p><i>“very well.”</i> a familiar, unfamiliar voice says from somewhere deep within you. </p>
<p>the anger recedes, but you’re still floating. </p>
<p>you don’t feel wholly in your body. but you’re not out of it either. it’s like you’re half in control, sharing the wheel with - </p>
<p>“dani,” a voice, sharp and concerned cuts through the haze “dani, dani look at me.” </p>
<p>jamie.</p>
<p>that’s jamie. that’s her voice and she sounds worried, </p>
<p>scared even. </p>
<p>the imagine of jamie scared shakes the rest of viola’s hold, if that’s what this was, loose, and you’re slammed back into yourself. you’re gasping, taking great heaving breaths as jamie comes into focus, kneeling in front of you. one hand is on your cheek, the other feeling at your wrist with two fingers. there’s an alarming shine in her eyes that remind you of tears and she’s kneeling here, kneeling in front of you in the contents of the spilled trash can. </p>
<p>“hey,” she says, breathless, eyes wide “hey, dani, look at me.” </p>
<p>you’re trying, you really are but that man, </p>
<p>you remember the slip of his pulse beneath your fingers. you remember him struggling, fighting against you. is he dead? the thought sends a sharp stab of panic through your chest and you’re arching, looking over jamie, looking into the space where the man was. </p>
<p>nothing. </p>
<p>no man. </p>
<p><i>“he is gone.”</i> the voice familiar and unfamiliar all at once says from somewhere in the corner of your mind <i>“alive.”</i> </p>
<p>“what?” you gasp, sagging back against the wall. </p>
<p>but the voice remains silent. </p>
<p>“dani,” jamie breathes, “dani look at me, please.” her voice cracks. </p>
<p>you do as asked. </p>
<p>her eyes are bright with concern, on the verge of tears. </p>
<p>“what happened?” she asks, her hand slipping into one of yours, lacing your fingers together. </p>
<p>she’s rooting you to the spot, tethering you to the moment. </p>
<p>you try to think, try to answer that question but fuck, </p>
<p>fuck your head hurts. </p>
<p>you remember the man, </p>
<p>the smell of him, the feel of his hand on your wrist. </p>
<p>“someone,” you start “someone, he-” jamie’s eyes go wide “he surprised me.” you take a short breath as the memories come flooding back – the smell of him, the callouses on his hand around your neck and the delight in his eyes  “can we go inside?” you ask, acutely aware of the cold now, feeling it deep in your bones. </p>
<p>“yeah,” jamie says, wrapping one arm under your shoulders and helping you stand. you catch her looking over her shoulder three times on the walk back to the shop. </p>
<p>you try, but your head hurts, your hand throbs. how did you get hurt? </p>
<p>are you bleeding? </p>
<p>you look down as jamie guides you up the step into the back room. you see blood across jamie’s hand. </p>
<p>“easy,” jamie says, following your gaze “easy poppins,” she uses the nickname, her nickname for you, and lets it curl around your racing heart “it’s just a bit of blood. we can clean you up inside.” </p>
<p>inside. </p>
<p>that’s a good idea. </p>
<p>you lean into’ jamie’s warmth, feeling her heat but also, </p>
<p>the lady. </p>
<p><i>“you are safe.”</i> the familiar, unfamiliar voice says as jamie guides you to lean against the sink. you’re surprised by how calm the lady sounds. or, you’re assuming this is the lady, viola, unless you have another resident ghost inside you. </p>
<p>“you okay to stand for a moment?” jamie asks, still one arm wrapped around you, still standing close, keeping a gentle, gentle hold of your aching hand. she’s moving her thumb in small, sort circles along the back of your hand, reluctant to let you go, wary that you may not stay up on your feet. </p>
<p>you think you’ll be okay. </p>
<p>you nod, regret the movement and say, quietly “yeah.” </p>
<p>the single word is all you can manage. you curl your non-throbbing hand around the edge of the sink and lean back against it, trying to breathe, trying to feel back in control of yourself. </p>
<p>distantly, you know jamie moves to the backdoor, locking it, bolting it. </p>
<p>you think the whole process takes less than ten seconds because she’s barley gone before she’s back by your side. you feel her hand at your hip,  “dani,” she says, choosing her words carefully “did he hurt you?” she asks softly, and you hate the fear in her voice, hate that you live in a world where a man-made jamie afraid like this, </p>
<p>made you afraid like this. </p>
<p>you think of his leering and then of his hand around your throat. </p>
<p>“no.” you say “not, not like that. i don’t.” you want to tell jamie everything but the words are catching on themselves, tumbling and twisting together before you have a chance to speak. you’re silent for several seconds before you realise you’re trembling, shaking and jamie interrupts you softly </p>
<p>“breath, dani.” she says “he can’t get in here.” she promises and you hear the ferocity in her voice, the reassurance. </p>
<p>it calms you, calms you enough for you to reach for her, hands skimming her waist before pulling her a step closer. you want to forget how he smelled, how he felt, you want to lose yourself in jamie “he said i looked cold.” you whisper, unable to recount the events any louder, “he said he, he could warm me up.” you feel jamie’s breath catch in her chest, her hand tracing a pattern up your back with forced calm “he grabbed me, i shouted. he pulled me towards him and i, i slapped him. i think i slapped him.” you remember the stinging in your hand after it happened, the surprise on the mans face “and then he,” his hand at your throat, strangling you. </p>
<p>you remember the lady, </p>
<p>bly. </p>
<p>“you’re safe.” jamie’s voice cuts through “dani, stay with me.” she’s ctrying not to cry, but you hear them in the thickness of her voice. </p>
<p>her touch, her words, the weight and warmth of jamie’s body pressed against you, </p>
<p>she grounds you. </p>
<p>“he had his hand around my throat.” you say “started to strangle me and i,” you press your forehead into the curve of jamie’s neck for several seconds, breathing and trying to breathe, until</p>
<p>“i think the lady saved me.” you whisper, remembering the fury, the scream, the strength that was not yours and the anger that nearly killed the man. </p>
<p>not that he didn’t deserve it. </p>
<p>“viola saved you?”  jamie’s surprise is plain in her voice, soft as it is as she speaks in a murmur. </p>
<p>you nod, exhausted and sagging into jamie, into her strength, her warmth “yeah.” you say “yeah, i think she saved me.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>you’re perched on the edge of the toilet, soft, warm steam still rising from the now-forgotten bath. jamie is kneeling in front of you, a first aid kit open, spilled across the floor by her feet. her hands are gentle against yours as she inspects the grazes with the practiced ease of someone used to patching other people up. </p>
<p>“does it hurt along here?” she asks, pressing delicately along the line of a bone in your hand and watching your face. </p>
<p>you shake your head “no.” you say, one arm wrapped around your stomach “no. i think it’s just the scratches.” </p>
<p>jamie nods, looking as if she agrees “i’ll clean them properly.” she says “they don’t look deep.” </p>
<p>you exhale shakily, watching as jamie pulls out a clean rag and some antiseptic. your eyes flutter closed, not particularly partial to watching what she’s going to do next. except, the moment you close your eyes that voice, </p>
<p>familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time says softly </p>
<p>
  <i>“let me out.”</i>
</p>
<p>it is not a demand. </p>
<p>it’s not even a plea. </p>
<p>the lady, viola, is making a simple request. </p>
<p>you shake your head. </p>
<p>“you alright?” jamie asks, watching your posture go rigid, watching you shake your head violently. </p>
<p>“i’m not letting you out.” you say, not brave enough to meet jamie’s concerned gaze. that doesn’t stop her from watching you, from keeping your hand in her own as she says, </p>
<p>“is that viola?” </p>
<p>you nod, once, it’s all you can manage. you’re caught on viola’s request, to be let out, to be let loose in your body. you shake your head again because what if, what if you let her out and that’s it, </p>
<p>that’s the end for you? </p>
<p>she nearly strangled a man tonight. what if she turns on jamie? what if - </p>
<p><i>“i would rather die, properly, than hurt jamie.”</i> viola says, cutting your train of thought off <i>“i only need to be out for a moment,”</i> she says <i>“i would like to speak to your jamie. i think we are long overdue a conversation.”</i> </p>
<p>“she wants to speak to you.” you say, looking at jamie’s knees. </p>
<p>“viola?” </p>
<p>you nod. </p>
<p>“what about?” </p>
<p>you know viola’s heard, so you wait, wait for her to come up with a response. </p>
<p><i>“about you. obviously.”</i> </p>
<p>“nothing obvious about it.” you say, more biting than you were expecting from yourself “you haven’t said anything to me for eight years.” </p>
<p><i>“yes, well, there was never an occasion too.”</i> </p>
<p>“and tonight?” you say, so aware that jamie is only getting half the conversation, but she’s so patient, so unperturbed by the conversation you’re having with your ghost. </p>
<p><i>“was an occasion.”</i> viola says, and she’s silent for a moment more before <i>“you are mine, dani. that is the nature of the bargain we made. that means you are mine to haunt but also mine to protect.”</i> you were not expecting the steel in her voice, the ferocity only outmatched by jamie earlier <i>“and over the past eight years, i have reluctantly learned that you, regardless of me and my presence, are loved. you are deeply loved and for me to do anything to jeopardize that, to rip you away from that love, it would be unforgivable.”</i> </p>
<p>you’re stunned into silence. </p>
<p>“dani?” jamie says gently, but her voice is distant. </p>
<p>you’re relenting, taking viola at her word. </p>
<p>you go slack, leaning back against the toilet. then, </p>
<p>you’re floating.</p>
<hr/>
<p>there are voices. </p>
<p>two voices. </p>
<p>neither of them are yours, but one is coming from you.</p>
<hr/>
<p>coming back into your body is a slow process. you’re aware, first, of jamie speaking, her words cutting through the easy blackness that you’re drifting along in. </p>
<p>“dani,” jamie says, her voice feather-light not distressed sounding in the least “just breathe dani.” she says, “i’m safe.” she says “you’re safe.” </p>
<p>those feel like good and important thins to know, especially as you feel, </p>
<p>sense, </p>
<p>viola tucking herself away again, tucking herself back into the corner of you that is now, </p>
<p>her. </p>
<p>“come back to me, dani.” jamie says gently, and you begin to notice the weight of her hand in yours. her other hand is on your knee, fingers drawing backwards and forwards, scratching lightly. </p>
<p>you blink. </p>
<p>there’s a relieved sigh “there you are.” jamie says, and you hear her smile “just sit for a bit.”</p>
<p>you’re exhausted, even more so than before. </p>
<p>“you okay?” you ask, keeping your eyes open just long enough to see jamie. she’s still kneeling in front of you, still with her hands on your knees and there’s a soft smile on her face.</p>
<p>it suits her. </p>
<p>you notice her eyes are bright and shining, </p>
<p>crying? </p>
<p>you try and convince an arm to cooperate and after several seconds you’re successful. you reach, fingers brushing along her cheek “you okay?” you ask, trying to sit up, lean forward, but you’re so tired.</p>
<p>“i’m good.” jamie promises, tilting her cheek into your hand “promise.” </p>
<p>“what’d she say?” you ask, letting your fingers scratch lightly at jamie’s hairline. </p>
<p>“she said,” jamie starts “that i showed her what love could be.”</p>
<p>you wrinkle your nose “she say it like that?” </p>
<p>jamie laughs and there’s a levity to her voice you haven’t heard in a long, long time. </p>
<p>“not quite, poppins.” she says, turning and kissing your palm “but she said that you don’t need to be afraid any more, that i don’t need to be afraid any more. she can’t leave you, apparently that’s not how it works. but she’s not, she’s not going to drag you to the bottom of that lake.” </p>
<p>“she won’t hurt you?” you ask, not caring really if you end up at the bottom of a lake or not, only caring that - </p>
<p><i>“never.”</i> viola interrupts at the same time that jamie says </p>
<p>“she seemed very, very against the idea. said it would make her no better than the worst monsters in society.” you hardly believe it. “and,” jamie adds “she told me to warn you that you’re going to be very tired.” </p>
<p>“noted.” you nod “i am very tired.” </p>
<p>physically, you’re shattered. mentally? </p>
<p>well,</p>
<p>there’s something playing in the back of your mind, </p>
<p>something like hope, </p>
<p>something like forever. </p>
<p>“how about i finish cleaning your hand and then we get to bed?” jamie suggests.</p>
<hr/>
<p>bed is warm, soft and dark. </p>
<p>like floating, but better because jamie has an arm draped across your stomach and she’s pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. </p>
<p>“i think she means it.” you whisper, your hand sliding under the covers to find jamie’s “i think, i think we,” you swallow hard, sucker-punched by the realisation that you might, </p>
<p>albeit with a ghostly companion,</p>
<p>be free. </p>
<p>free to live your life. free to love jamie. free to- </p>
<p>“i think she does.” jamie agrees, and you hear the emotion in her voice before you turn in her arms. you’re so close to her like this, her breaths washing across your neck and her nose brushing against your cheek. she brings one hand to the back of your head, fingers scratching lightly at your scalp “i think we have time.” she says. </p>
<p>“no more one day at a time.” you murmur, surging forward, kissing jamie, kissing her senseless like you plan to do for years, </p>
<p>and years, </p>
<p>to come.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm just saying that ghost who becomes that angry because she wasnt loved well or properly (amongst other reasons, but that is most certainly one) can't spend that much time around dani and jamie and not be mildly reformed. i'm not saying viola is enthusiastic about her new role of protecting the lesbians, but she does it. </p>
<p>thank you to everyone who commented or kudo'd the last piece.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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